


A Purely Eleemosynary Motivation

by thespreadeagle



Series: A Date at the Spread Eagle [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire (one-sided)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespreadeagle/pseuds/thespreadeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Courfeyrac finds himself forced to grow as a person, Combeferre is bullied for his taste in eyewear, and Feuilly develops an allergy to self-dramatisation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Purely Eleemosynary Motivation

‘It’s highly doubtful you’ll get cholera what with our pretty advanced sewer system and everything,’ said Courfeyrac. ‘No, I’m not making fun of you. Well, maybe a little bit.’ He walked along the street quickly, holding his coat together with one hand. ‘Look, you’ve got to let me go or I’m going to drop the phone. No, you won’t get typhus either. Don’t they have vaccinations for that anyway? Oh. About the most likely thing I can think of you getting is anxiety-related high blood pressure. No, that was a joke, don’t - Okay. I’ll see you later then? Bye.’ Courfeyrac put his phone back into his pocket as he neared Combeferre’s front door, and taking out his keys. Once inside, he called out. Feuilly obviously wasn’t home, otherwise he would have already shouted at Courfeyrac to keep the noise down, and Combeferre wasn’t responding. He finally found him working at his desk.

‘If you work so hard all the time, I’m afraid you might rupture something,’ he said.

‘If you don’t start working, your parents might rupture something when they see your results.’ Combeferre replied, not turning around.

‘Somehow, that seems the least likely of all the possible outcomes to this situation, for many reasons.’ Reading over Combeferre’s shoulder, he said, ‘That is finished and I won’t brook any arguments otherwise.’

Combeferre waved a hand at the screen. ‘The phrasing is...’

‘The phrasing is perfectly fine. Academic yet readable. Learned but not too fustian. Now leave it, or you’ll give yourself a headache.’

‘I’m not as prone to headaches as some of you seem to think.’

‘I shouldn’t blame you if you were. When one thinks of all the distinctly unsavoury types you have to put up with, coming in and unburdening themselves on you, a headache seems an eminently reasonable response.’

Combeferre raised his eyebrows, and Courfeyrac managed to look not even a little shamefaced. ‘And what have you come to unburden yourself from?’

‘Why, I rather came to unburden you from whatever horrible thing involving moles of ammonia it is you’re doing.’

‘Moles of ammonia?’

Courfeyrac shrugged. ‘It’s the only thing I remember from chemistry at school.’

Combeferre had to laugh. ‘Go on then. Unburden away.’

‘Outside?’

‘It’s October.’

‘But fine, for all that.’

Combeferre acquiesced, and pulled on his coat in the hall. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to talk?’

‘What about?’

‘Well... Joly, for one thing.’

‘What on earth would I want to talk about Joly for?’

Combeferre said nothing.

‘Look. It’s just... It’s easy, it’s simple. No anguished declarations of love and no resulting messy breakup. I suppose you might call it a facsimile of a relationship - Jehan’s not as subtle as he thinks - but it’s actually rather nice.’

‘What about when it gets more involved?’

‘It won’t.’

‘Does he know that?’

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘He’s not as... experienced as you. With things like this.’

‘I should think that would rather lend itself to not becoming involved.’

Combeferre tried not to sigh.

‘No, seriously. He doesn’t know it’s impossible not to.’

‘Do you always talk this much rubbish?’

Courfeyrac laughed, delighted. ‘Practically all of the time. Shall we talk about something else?’

‘Yes. Please. But just be careful.’

‘I’m always careful. No, don’t laugh at me when I’m being perfectly serious. Now, let’s walk, hmm? I miss the fresh air and the sunshine. You can laugh at that if you want, I actually loathe fresh air, it’s so wholesome.’

‘I wouldn’t call this much car exhaust wholesome.’

‘I wouldn’t be able to stand it otherwise,’ said Courfeyrac, and winked. Despite himself, Combeferre had to smile back.

***

‘Feuilly,’ said Courfeyrac, ‘I have a problem.’

He looked up from his seat to where Courfeyrac was standing in the doorway. ‘Combeferre’s not here.’

‘I know,’ said Courfeyrac, and Feuilly almost wanted him to elaborate.

‘I’m pretty sure he’d deal with your problem a lot better than I will.’

‘But you will?’

Feuilly sighed. Then he cleared a space on the sofa.

‘My problem is that I’m not sure what I’m feeling.’

‘Oh,’ said Feuilly.

‘I feel like I may have taken advantage of someone.’

‘Yes, that is definitely not my kind of problem.’

‘Not like that, well, yes like that but my dear, please get your mind out of the gutter. Now, normally I feel like both parties have been equally taken advantage of. But in this case I feel that despite my altruistic intentions I might not have made myself entirely clear.’

‘Oh,’ said Feuilly.

‘No, no, there’s more.’

‘Maybe you should talk to Marius about this.’

‘Really,’ said Courfeyrac, and Feuilly had to agree. ‘The thing is, I seem to have entered into a relationship without knowing about it. Which is not something that’s foreign to me by any means but this time I’m not entirely sure what to do about it.’

‘You’re honestly telling me you’re not sure what to do about it. You’re telling me that the one sensible solution to this hasn’t crossed your mind. No, I forgot, you don’t really do sensible.’

‘It has, but - it makes me feel things.’

‘Things.’

‘It makes me feel like I’m a terrible person and it might be true but I don’t usually think about it.’  
‘Guilt,’ said Feuilly. ‘I understand that it might be a bit outside your sphere of experience but that thing you’re feeling is very, very, guilty.’

‘Yes,’ said Courfeyrac sadly, and stared down at his hands, ‘I rather thought it might be.’

‘Stop, please,’ Feuilly said. ‘I’m allergic to self-dramatisation.’

‘Don’t tell Joly about that one. Although,’ Courfeyrac said, ‘it might solve my problem,’ and laughed.

‘This is why nobody ever has any sympathy for you.’

‘I knew there was a reason I didn’t talk to you about matters of the heart,’ said Courfeyrac, and cleared himself a bigger space.

 

***

'You’re very unsociable, you know,' Courfeyrac said , placing Combeferre’s cup of tea on the table next to him.

'Hm?' Combeferre looked up from his book.

'I was saying, you’re very unsociable. There are people here, you could talk to us instead of reading your damned book.’ He passed Joly his own mug and then sat next to him on the sofa.

'You’re being melodramatic.' Combeferre sipped at his tea. 'Anyway, Feuilly isn’t getting called unsociable for writing his essay and not talking to anyone.'

'That’s because Feuilly’s terrible company.'

'Just because I have my back to you doesn’t mean I can’t hear you,' Feuilly called .

'I know,' said Courfeyrac.

'What are you reading?' Jehan asked, turning to Combeferre, eager to prevent another cat-fight.

'Oh, uh, Applied Channel Theory in Chinese Medicine. It’s rather good, if a little long-winded.'

'Dear Lord, if Combeferre thinks it’s long-winded-' Courfeyrac began.

'I wouldn’t mind reading that once you’re finished, if that’s alright,' Joly interjected. Combeferre nodded, returning to his reading.

'Oh, Joly, dear, don’t make yourself suffer.'

'I don’t call it suffering,' Joly laughed.

'Well I do. You’ll strain your eyes from all the reading. You’ll end up with hideous glasses like Combeferre, and as handsome as you are, you haven’t the face shape for glasses,' Courfeyrac said. Joly laughed a little uncomfortably.

'They’re not hideous,' Combeferre said. 'Are they?'

'I think they’re rather flattering,' said Jehan.

'I think they look like you stole them from a young Elvis Costello,' Courfeyrac retorted. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, frowning, before reaching into his back-pocket and pulling out a bottle of hand sanitiser. 'Oh, Joly, that’s yours,' he said, handing it over.

'You know, I was reading about Fermat’s little theorem recently,' Jehan began, 'and although it’s obviously not as well known as his Last Theorem, it has some really interesting links with Mersenne primes. I mean, obviously you know what Mersenne numbers are, but I think they’re underrated. For their beauty. There’s just something staggering about a prime number 17 million digits long and I really like prime numbers anyway.’

‘I had a friend who tried to write out the 15th Mersenne prime in binary,’ said Combeferre, ‘which went about as well as you’d imagine.’ 

'I think my tea’s gone cold,’ Joly said, looking at his mostly full cup.

'Here, I’ll make you another,' said Courfeyrac, taking the mug from him and making his way to the kitchen.

'You don’t have to.'

'No trouble, all this mathematics is wasted on me,' he grinned. 

***

‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Combeferre.

‘I was, um, washing the dishes.’

‘So I take it you didn’t just run away from Jehan going into raptures over Fermat?’

‘Well, that too. I had to flee before he asked my opinion. I can’t even do geometry.’

‘Yes, we all know you add up on your fingers sometimes. Apart from Jehan, anyway. But why are you washing up exactly?’

‘It was, ah. It was in case Joly came in here.’

‘No,’ said Combeferre, and started to laugh.

‘Don’t mock me,’ Courfeyrac said, trying to look dignified. ‘Don’t laugh at my pain. You see what happens when I try to be a nice person? This is why I’m so awful. The universe conspires to stop me being a decent human being.’

‘Oh, come off it. You’re not enjoying martyring yourself at all?’

‘I’m nineteen,’ said Courfeyrac. ‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my life washing plates. I’m too young. Combeferre, when I said I wanted a misspent youth I didn’t mean like this.’

‘That’s quite optimistic on a lot of levels,’ Combeferre said. ‘And can I suggest that you just don’t wash the plates?’

‘I entered into this with completely altruistic motives and look where it got me.’

‘No, I thought that might be too simple.’

‘I’m just never going to benevolently seduce anyone ever again.’

‘I might quibble about the use of 'benevolently' in that sentence, but that sounds like a good idea.’

Courfeyrac pouted. ‘There are times when I do want you to take me seriously.’

‘I’ve vaguely heard about them.’

‘And I was benevolent. If I were only pursuing my decadent and faintly deviant pleasures there are many, many better people to do that with that Joly.’

‘Like who? No, actually, don’t -’

‘Jehan, maybe, in an abstract sense. Jehan seems like he could be pretty debauched. Or Marius and Cosette, or most people to be honest. I mean, one doesn’t so much want to ravish Joly as feed him.’

‘Please don’t seduce Marius and Cosette. Or Jehan.’

‘I’m developing maternal instincts. This is how badly things have taken a turn for the worse.’

Combeferre shrugged. ‘Then end it.’

‘But I feel guilty.’

‘That would be a turn up for the books.’

‘I know. I mean, I wanted to make Joly a better person, not me.’

‘What makes somebody a “better person” is highly subjective.’ He paused. ‘I honestly don’t know what else to say to you.’

‘So you think I should end it?’

‘I - it’s not up to me.’

‘Yes or no?’

‘It doesn’t really work like that. I can’t just -’

‘Please?’

‘Well, I - yes. I suppose. But don’t-’

‘Good,’ said Courfeyrac. ‘For once what I want to do is the right thing. That’s depressing, actually. Oh God, I’m not developing a conscience, am I?’

‘I highly doubt it,’ said Combeferre.

***

‘“The fire that stirs about her/burns but more clearly”,’ Jehan said mournfully.

‘If you’re going to start quoting poetry you can leave,’ said Bahorel. ‘I’m not staying with you on the winding road to Sylvia Plath.’

‘That was nothing like Plath,’ said Jehan.

‘Yes, but it was bad enough and I know what you’re like.’

‘I promise I won’t quote Sylvia Plath.’

‘That’s an acceptable compromise,’ said Bahorel, ‘but I still think you should stop wandering around like a moonstruck calf.’

‘But what should I do?’

‘Punch him in the face, maybe.’

Jehan tried to raise an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

‘I don’t know, you’re pretty weedy but he’s not much better and you’d have the element of surprise-’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Jehan said.

‘I could punch him in the face.’

‘Punching Courfeyrac in the face is out, can we please move onto another line of advice?’

‘I don’t really have any when it comes to Courfeyrac.’

‘I want to punch him in the face,’ said Jehan. ‘Just a little bit,’ and sighed.

‘If it’s any help, it looks like they’re both trying to figure out why they’re together in the first place.’

‘That’s not really much help,’ Jehan said, ‘but thank you.’ He looked up tragically at Bahorel. ‘I’m better looking and more charming than practically everyone he’s ever been involved with. It’s not fair.’

‘Maybe he’s scared he’d go blind looking at your leggings.’

‘They’re jeans. Why does nobody ever believe that they’re jeans?’

Bahorel patted him on the head. ‘Things aren’t really going your way, are they?’

‘I just want to know what I should do.’

‘Well, since you keep refusing my best advice, just ask him out. Or seduce him or something. Or whatever it is you do.’

Jehan looked horrified. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘You seduce lots of people. You keep telling me about it.’

‘No, I didn’t mean I couldn’t do it, just that I can’t.’

‘The difference is a little bit too subtle for me,’ said Bahorel, ‘but I thought that might be too simple.’

***

Courfeyrac wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or apprehensive when Joly looked so distinctly not-pleased to see him.

‘Oh,’ he said, standing in the middle of the doorway. ‘You want to come in?’

‘Well, I want to talk to you. I suppose I could stand here if you wanted to make it brief, but-’

‘No, no,’ he said, stepping backwards. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘Joly,’ said Courfeyrac. ‘I’m afraid I may have misled you awfully as to my intentions towards you.’

Joly stared at him.

‘Although entirely eleemosynary, they were purely against your virtue and I in fact had no higher aim.’

‘I don’t really understand,’ said Joly. ‘It might help if you told me what eleemosynary meant.’

‘No, my dear, don’t apologise for not understanding. And I understand that this might be a little abrupt, but - I think it might be a good idea if we stopped seeing each other romantically.’

‘Oh,’ Joly said. ‘Good. I didn’t really realise we were seeing each other romantically until yesterday to be honest.’

Courfeyrac stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘Seriously? Were you asleep?’

‘No, not like that, I just meant- I thought we were only seeing each other. Um. Sexually.’

‘Oh. Well, that was my plan. In all honesty. My entirely altruistic plan, I hasten to add.’

‘What,’ Joly said.

‘I just wanted to make you come out of your shell a bit, and then I worried that I gave you a false impression.’ He looked earnestly at Joly. ‘I’ve been feeling guilty.’

‘I’m going to take that in the spirit it was intended. Also please don’t feel guilty if it makes you act like that.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Courfeyrac, trying to look dignified. ‘I acted in a completely upright and honourable way, while trying to preserve both of our integrities.’

‘Exactly,’ said Joly.

‘I shall also take that in the spirit in which I’m sure it was intended.’

‘Just - maybe a little bit less melodrama might have made it simpler.’

Courfeyrac stared at him.

‘I just mean that - if you hadn’t blown this up into, a, um, a Regency novel with virtue being abused and eloping and whatever,’ he said, and looked embarrassed, ‘we might have understood what was happening.’

‘You mean that I might have understood what was happening.’

‘Well, um, yes. Sorry.’

Courfeyrac was silent for a moment, then smiled broadly. ‘But where would be the fun in that?’

And Joly had to laugh.


End file.
